Fell For You
by Red Chucks
Summary: An exercise in trying to write smut using the song "Fell for You" by Greenday. - which has now spawned a second chapter and has run away with my brain. Well, the smutty part of my brain in any case.
1. Chapter 1

**An exercise in trying to write smut using the song "Fell for You" by Greenday. **

* * *

_Vince watched, his whole body shaking with anticipation as Howard, free of his clothes, crossed the room toward him. How had he never realised how sexy Howard's body was? How had he failed to notice the way Howard's muscles moved under his soft, freckled skin? And something was different about Howard tonight as well. He was standing straight, his shoulders square and confident, and prowling across the room like the true sexual tyrannosaurus he'd once claimed to be._

_Vince licked his dry lips and felt another shiver ripple through his body. He realised for the first time that he was naked, his clothes nowhere to be seen, and his whole body leaned toward Howard like a flower toward the sun. He could feel Howard's gaze on him, making him blush. Howard's eyes were intense and smoldering, and in his head Vince decreed he would never make fun of them ever again, not when he had felt what they were capable of, what Howard could do to him before they'd even touched._

_He closed his eyes, trying to breathe normally as the room began to lose focus, but as he did he felt Howard's warm skin press up against his. Vince gasped as the head of his cock was pushed against Howard's thigh, smearing the skin and hair with his precome. An arm wrapped around his waist, holding him so firmly his body's first reaction was to surrender and melt into the touch. His chest touched Howard's and one of his nipples rubbed against the other man's chest hair, hardening instantly, and causing his eyes to open and a gasp to escape his lips._

_"Howard?" he panted, but there was no response._

_Howard used one arm to pull Vince impossibly closer while his other hand came up to caress the smaller man's cheek. In that moment Vince knew he was lost. He lifted his chin, arched his neck and submitted to the kiss that Howard pressed to his lips._

_Howard's lips were unbearably soft and the slight scratch of his moustache pulled a moan from somewhere deep within Vince. He couldn't take it, there was too much sensation; and then felt Howard's tongue slide, like warm mulled wine, over his lips and into his mouth._

_The effect was instant. Vince's skin prickled with heat and his brain fogged over and he felt himself falling, surrounded by Howard's delicious heat, drawn in by Howard's kiss. _

_By Howard._

* * *

Vince gasped so violently upon waking that he made himself cough, his narrow chest heaving and glistening with sweat, while his heart pounded so hard it hurt.

A dream. It was just a dream - if the word 'just' could be applied to a dream as intense as that one. He ran his hands through his hair, not caring that he left it a spiked mess, and tried to clear the thoughts from his head. Howard. He'd been kissing Howard. Hard for Howard. Desperate for Howard. But why?

Was it just because he hadn't seen Howard in a week? Or because of the weird taste in the dinner Bollo had cooked? It must have ben that, Vince tried to tell himself, but his heart wouldn't stop beating like the bass line in a nightclub and he felt his eyes begin to well with tears as he thought of it. He'd been desperate for Howard because in the dream he, Dream Vince, had been in love with Howard.

"Oh God," he croaked, raising his knees and resting his head between them to try and stop the nausea and the bile rising in his throat. It didn't work though, as the change in position simply made him disturbingly aware of the fact that part of him still wanted Howard. Quite a lot.

"Traitor," he hissed at his erection but it continued unabated and unrepentant as his brain continued to feed him images from his dream and the way he'd wanted that kiss so badly.

With a grimace Vince lay back, slipped his hand under the covers and edged it toward his throbbing cock.

It was so wrong, he knew. Howard was his best mate after all. But he couldn't get the idea of Howard - naked and sexy and sure of himself - out of his head. He let the whimper escape his mouth as he wrapped his hand firmly around the base of his cock, even though he hated himself for it, and started to pull himself off with firm, quick strokes. He didn't want to draw this out, but after a few minutes of trying to keep his mind blank he bit his lip and gave in to the urge to think about Howard again.

As soon as he began to imagine Howard's naked skin against his own VInce's hips started to cant erratically and his thighs shook with the tension running through him. Just the thought of Howard holding him, making him feel safe and protected and yet vulnerable at the same time, was almost enough to finish him off - but not quite, and he knew what he would have to do if he really wanted to get this over with.

He sucked his index finger quickly and reached around the press it against his now throbbing hole. He pushed it in, just to the first knuckle, and whimpered as he felt his orgasm finally building.

"Oh God!" he breathed. "Howard?"

And behind his eyes Dream Howard kissed him again, long, lingering and deep as the waves of pleasure overtook him and his hand was filled with burning hot spurts of semen.

He clenched his jaw and took five slow breaths before opening his eyes, removing his finger and pulling his other hand out gingerly from under his blankets. He sighed.

"Gross."

He wasn't supposed to want someone like Howard. Howard was his best friend, yeah, but he was an awkward outsider, and old to boot! He couldn't fall for Howard! Except that he had. One stupid dream about a stupid kiss and now, as horrible as it was to admit it to himself, he, Vince Noir, had fallen for Howard Moon. At least Howard wasn't around to make things worse. He was still off pretending to be an actor and probably wouldn't come crawling back for another few weeks.

Plenty of time to try and get this out of his system...


	2. Chapter 2

**Well somehow this piece of smut gained momentum in my brain and now there's a second chapter.**

**sThe usual disclaimers apply as well as ****this**** important one: the sexytimes in this chapter are part of a dream and do not reflect realistic intercourse. Howard reads too many trashy romance ****novels for his own good, which I think is going to be an important point in where this story is heading. **

* * *

In an another bed, in another city, another man was also suffering from the effects of a dream. Howard sat on the edge of the bed in his tiny flat and ran his fingers through his lengthening hair. He stared at the wall, at the floor, at the open suitcase in the corner, and then at the digital clock on his bedside table, trying to calm his breathing but to no avail. He watched the blinking red lights as they told him that it was eight minutes to three and tried to forget what he'd been dreaming. What he'd been _doing_ in his dream. What he'd been doing... with Vince.

It wasn't the first time he'd had the dream. Back home, when all that separated his bed from Vince's was a few meters of carpet, the dream would creep up on him on an average of once a month. Since he'd left Vince and London behind in favour of Jurgen and Denmark it had happened every night. It was bad enough that his days were filled with the humiliation of filming Jurgen's crab advert and trying to negotiate his way around a city where he didn't speak the language but every night for a week he'd woken up in a sweat with an erection that refused to go away on its own.

He checked the clock again: two minutes to three. He had to be up in three hours and he wouldn't be getting back to sleep at this rate. And today Jurgen had promised to show him his latest project, the one he'd promised to Howard in return for being the Angry Crab of Trapped Wind. He really needed his sleep, which meant only one thing.

Taking a shuddering breath Howard lay back on his narrow bed and threw the covers over himself. He wasn't entirely comfortable watching himself do this, even though he knew these days that he wouldn't end up blind, it still felt rather shameful. He let his hand creep down and slip under the elastic of his flannel trousers, breathing sharply through his nose. His body jerked as his fingers, so cold they were practically numb, touched the painful heat of his erection and he groaned when he finally wrapped his hand around his throbbing length and gave a few tugs.

He'd never really enjoyed this the way he'd been led to believe men were supposed to. It got him off but Howard was a romantic. He wanted to be serenaded and taken carer of and worshipped and, well, loved. There wasn't a lot of love going on between him and his hand. But in the dreams...

Howard closed his eyes and summoned the scene. He'd been through the dream so many times it was easy to bring to his mind and he settled himself more comfortably against his pillow. He could almost smell the dream, it was that familiar, and he gave his cock a tight, delicious, squeeze as he let himself get carried away by the invented memory.

* * *

_He looked up from his book as the bathroom door opened, watching the steam drift out slowly, curling in the cooler air and seeming to invite him to look. Somewhere, quietly, a Peggy Lee record played and the smell of Vince's coconut bodywash drifted into the room. _

_When Vince himself appeared in the doorway, his chest was bare and slightly damp, his hair glossy - combed but not styled - and only a small towel covered his more intimate body parts. He walked forward leisurely, letting Howard take in his beauty, and came to stand between Howard's legs in front of the sofa. _

_"__Alright, Howard?" he asked in a sultry voice, running his fingers through Howard's hair and caressing his scalp._

_Howard nodded but couldn't look up. All he could see was Vince's towel: the weave of the flannel, that one loose thread, the way it curved over the swelling beneath. It was only a towel but it was mesmerizing too and he wanted desperately to see what was beneath - but couldn't. Didn't dare. Vince's hands tightened in his hair and guided him forward until his face was pushed against the towel, and the hardness of Vince's manhood. Howard let out a moan, which Vince answered with a wry chuckle, circling his hips and using Howard's face to create the pleasurable friction he needed._

_"__Are you ready, Howard?" Vince purred and Howard nodded, whimpering as Vince stroked his hair and pushed his hardness against his mouth. Howard opened his lips, even though the towel was still in the way, and tried to imagine he could taste, even ever so faintly, what was so essentially Vince._

_"__I'm ready," he gasped. "I'm ready, Vince," but whined when Vince let go of his hair and stepped away. His hands were gripping the sofa desperately but he didn't dare move them. He didn't know what he was doing. He needed Vince to tell him what was supposed to happen._

_"__Knees on the couch, Howard" Vince urged him, his pale hand wandering to the corner of his towel. _

_Howard turned and did as he was told as his chest heaved and the sweat began to prickle on his body. He heard the towel drop to the floor behind him but he didn't turn to look. He couldn't look. He heard the sound of Vince stepping up behind him and spread his thighs a little wider, enjoying the appreciative exhalation he heard from the other man. And then Vince touched him._

_Vince's hands were warm and sure as they trailed down his back to massage his arse and Howard tilted his hips to help Vince along, trying to keep some measure of control and failing as he felt his friend's fingers rub and squeeze his flesh in a way that made his whole body begin to throb with need. When a hand slid down and around the inside of his thigh to rub over his balls Howard moaned loudly and Vince's throaty laugh made him delerious. _

_"__You're ready now, Howard," Vince whispered, leaning forward to suck on Howard's neck as his erection pushed firmly between his arse cheeks._

_"__Yes," Howard answered as he felt Vince push slowly and so smoothly inside until he was completely filled. _

_This was what he needed, Howard knew. This was the way it was supposed to be. And as Vince began to thrust in and out of him, telling Howard he was beautiful and perfect and doing so well, Howard couldn't help the whisper that escaped his lips._

_"__I love you, Vince."_

* * *

Howard opened his eyes with a shudder and his orgasm hit a moment later. The clenching and spasming of his muscles was more intense than usual and Howard tried to hold on to the fantasy of having Vince inside him for another minute. It felt so good, even though it was no more than his imagination, and he promised himself (again) that one day he would actually try to replicate the feeling with a finger, or anything at all. But not tonight.

He tried to breathe through the aftershocks and not think about the four words the dream always ended with. He didn't love Vince. Not like that. It was just a dream, just a fantasy that happened to involve Vince because he was the person Howard saw the most during the day and was therefore the easiest for his brain to conjure up at night. Simple. Except that he hadn't seen Vince for a week. And every romance novel he'd ever read (and he'd read a lot!) seemed to suggest that the person you loved was the one who invaded your dreams and stayed in your thoughts even when cruel destiny separated you.

Howard screwed his face up in denial. He couldn't love Vince. Vince had done everything he possibly could to push Howard away, even before he'd kissed him on his birthday to get out of being killed... And said he loved Howard... and claimed he would never love again...

Howard opened his eyes slowly and reached for the tissues. Was there possibly something more to Vince's actions than he'd initially thought?

His body sent a pulse of need from his brain to his groin, exhausted though he was, at the thought of Vince dreaming of him the way he dreamed of Vince but he was too tired to follow the thought through to its conclusion. He couldn't love Vince. It was twelve minutes past three and he had to be up in three hours to begin his career as a serious actor. All of this would just have to wait. Until around the same time tomorrow night probably. Howard rolled over and groaned. He needed to get this out of his system somehow.


	3. Chapter 3

Vince sat at the breakfast table in his pants and vest, trying desperately to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. His left leg jiggled up and down frantically, causing the table to shake and his spoon to slowly edge away from his cereal bowl, but he couldn't stop it. He tried to pick up his tea but couldn't hold the mug steady enough to drink so put it back down with thunk that sent tea slopping over the rim and onto his hand. He decided instead to stare at the wall, concentrating on keeping his body steady so Naboo wouldn't notice anything was up.

He hadn't slept well. In fact, he hadn't slept properly for a week. Every time he closed his eyes, there was Howard. And while the dreams were different each time they followed a common pattern and there was a definite theme to them all. He was a bit tired of all the wanking, actually. He'd given himself wrist cramp last night and his mind was completely frazzled from the constant barrage of images and desires. He'd gone from feeling a mild attraction to Howard to falling for him to being desperately in love with him and feeling physically sick at the thought that Howard might not come back. All in the space of a week. His brain was not meant for this sort of mental strain and he could barely put together his hair in the morning, let alone pick out a stylish new outfit each day. He was walking around like a cotton wool zombie and he couldn't take it anymore. He just wanted to have a decent sleep with no Dream Howard kissing down his chest and belly to lick his, aching, throbbing -

"Fuck," he whimpered, crossing his legs to keep the jolt of need from escalating, then quickly looked down into his bowl of milk and mushy coco pops to hide his face.

Naboo was watching him over the rim of his tea cup, his big brown eyes unreadable as ever and staring at Vince as if he could see much more than Vince wanted him to. They sat in silence for so long that he began to wonder what he could do to escape the oppressive noise of it, until, finally, Naboo made a small tut of surprise and spoke.

"Looks like Howard's coming home today," he lisped indifferently.

"What!"

Naboo smiled knowingly before checking the message in his tea dregs again.

"The acting thing didn't work out," he reported. "He's coming home. He'll be here by four this afternoon. "

Vince felt himself begin to hyperventilate. Howard was coming back, was actually coming back to their flat, coming back to Vince. Howard was coming back and they could finally-

"I gotta go get ready for work!" he croaked, knocking over his tea in his rush to get up from the table, ignoring Naboo's yells for him to come and clean up the mess.

Vince stumbled to his bedroom and collapsed down onto the bed, so tired and confused he thought he might be sick. He'd wanted to get the whole 'Oh-dear-God-I'm-in-love-with-Howard-how-could-this-happen?' thing out of his system before Howard came back but at this point he wasn't sure he actually wanted to. Part of him wanted to confess his love and snog Howard silly and hold him tight and never let go. It was a big part of him. A very big part. The other part of him couldn't get past the thought of dropping to his knees in front of Howard the second he got back to the flat and demonstrating in a very physical way that just how important Howard was to him.

He let out a frustrated moan as the rest of his brain locked on to that particular thought and refused to let it go. His penis swelled sluggishly in his pants but he couldn't bare to do anything about it. Howard would be home this afternoon which meant that Vince needed to clean their room (he'd sort of been using Howard's bed as a second wardrobe for his clothing overflow), wash his hair and pick out a killer outfit to make Howard realise that Vince was the person he'd been waiting for.

He rolled onto his back and tried to will himself back to calm. He was Vince Noir, Rock-n-Roll star, Confuser, Prince of Camden and Expert of all things Sex. If he attacked Howard like a love-sick puppy the second the man came home Howard wouldn't take him seriously. Vince had learnt long ago that Howard wasn't into physical affection. He didn't get it and assumed that any attempt by anyone to show him love was a joke at his expense. Vince had all but given up touching Howard, it wasn't worth the embarrassment just for a cuddle, but now he wanted to do more than cuddle and there was more than just a few moments of embarrassment at stake if he failed. This would require planning and careful thought and a colour scheme and...

Vince let out a gentle snore as the need for sleep hit him like a like a stone on a rope.

And there he stayed until Bollo took pity on him and came to wake him with the news that Howard would be back in exactly one hour.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this has taken a while. I get scared when I don't actually know where the story is headed.**

* * *

Howard stepped off the bus at three forty-nine precisely but couldn't bring himself to walk the short distance down the road to the Nabootique straight away. He was returning after two weeks in a foreign land, the longest either he or Vince had ever managed alone, and he wanted to make an entrance. He dug his theatre cape and hat from his case and put them on, checking himself in a shop window.

Howard nodded, he looked like a proper actor in this outfit, whatever Bob Fossil said about a gay Zorro. Not that there was anything wrong with that, he reminded himself. Jurgen said he had to keep reminding himself that wanting Vince was ok until he either worked up the courage to actually tell Vince how he felt or the crush petered out. He was quietly hoping for the latter but didn't think it would happen. He'd been dreaming about Vince for years and moving back here would just put Vince right back in the forefront of his mind. But at the same time he couldn't imagine a scenario that allowed him to admit his newfound feelings and not be laughed at. Vince wouldn't necessarily do it to be mean, he just laughed at everything. Once upon a time Howard had been flattered by the way Vince would giggle at his stories and throw his head back and laugh at all of his jokes. It had been a real ego boost but Vince had given up on stoking Howard's self-esteem in favour of his new, trendier friends.

He smoothed his moustache carefully then scoffed at his behaviour, he was as bad as Vince, well, almost.

"Vince."

It was Vince's fault that Howard was back, in a way, but he certainly wasn't about to let Vince know that. He was going to walk into the Nabootique a confident man who'd enjoyed a jaunt away and was now ready to settle back into the world of stocktaking and customer service. There would be no clue that he'd failed, or that he'd had a breakdown on set and confessed to Jurgen that he was infatuated with his best mate and couldn't get a decent nights sleep for dreaming of him. He was Howard Moon, retired actor, and he didn't have to worry about anyone he knew seeing that advert because it was made purely for the European market.

Howard straightened his shoulders and glanced once more at his reflection and immediately wished he hadn't. The hat seemed to make his head seems smaller, like a dried out cashew perched atop his lumpy beanbag body. The cape didn't go with his shirt, he realised, as a long-forgotten lecture from Vince about not wearing navy with black drifted into his head, and it showed off his soft belly a bit too much for his liking. Who was he kidding. Vince would never take him seriously.

He opened his case and threw the cape and felt hat roughly inside, donning his brown jacket quickly and buttoning it up for good measure. He looked a little slimmer with it buttoned, another lesson from Vince he hadn't realised he'd taken in, and he desperately wanted Vince to think he looked good. He pulled his brown hat down over his unwashed hair and approached the Nabootique door wondering whether he should have just stayed away.

* * *

Vince scowled at the television and tried to pretend he was only annoyed at having to watch Sammy the Crab front the Black Tubes when it should have been him but he could feel Naboo smirking. If Naboo could've had his way Howard would have arrived back home to a messy bed and Vince sprawled out asleep in his pants. Naboo had been a right dick since Howard left.

Vince wanted Howard to be happy to be home. He wanted to turn over a new leaf in their friendship and all that - you know, stop being such a tit - and he couldn't very well do that in his pants. He knew for a fact that Howard hated him running around in just his underwear. It was fine for Howard to strut around in tiny swim trunks but whenever Vince tried to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom in just a towel Howard lost it. He'd given Vince his kimono just so that he would have an extra layer to wear in the mornings. Welcoming Howard home while wearing nothing but his vest and pants would have been a disaster and that was before he factored in any downstairs reaction he might have to seeing Howard again.

Vince blinked and started at the telly. He was confused and he didn't like being confused, it made him irritable. He was supposed to be the Confuser, not the Confused, but here he was, wearing the first thing he'd snatched off Howard's bed before he dumped the rest on top of his own duvet. He felt nauseous from falling asleep during the day and the stress of waiting for Howard to get back was getting to him. He'd made the decision - while running down the stairs to the Nabootique ten minutes before Howard was due to arrive - that he needed to make a move on his best mate and he needed to do it now, before he lost his nerve and they settled back into their dysfunctional friendship. When Howard got back he'd walk straight up to him and hug him and tell him he was glad he was back and they'd go out for a drink and talk and come home and make sweet love and then...

The bell over the door jangled.

Vince had expected Howard to sweep in and strike an actorly pose. He'd expected pomp and a bit of Howard Moon fake confidence and bluster and that ridiculous, little cape. Vince always felt better when Howard put on his 'man of the world' act and he'd been all primed to run up and pay Howard a compliment.

Until Howard walked in like he wished he had something to hide behind.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going off to see Jurgen."

Vince hated himself a bit for the face he pulled and that his first impulse was to be mean to Howard but then Howard did a little speech about how he knew now that everything he needed was right here and Vince was all ready to say something - anything - like, _"I love you, Howard! You're all I need too!"_ but Bollo and Naboo spoke first and Vince watched another opportunity slip away from him.

"Adam!"

"He came back, you're fired."

Howard looked crushed that he'd been so easily replaced and Vince felt himself getting even angrier that Howard couldn't take the compliment so obviously in front of his face and then the Angry Crab of Trapped Wind came on the tv and Vince felt himself turning into a dick again. By the time the commercial was over and he'd laughed in Howard's face he was on the verge of a panic attack because of his own behaviour and excused himself with a swagger and a smug grin.

"I'm just going upstairs," he said as he carefully avoided eye contact. "Going out tonight and I need to, you know, pick out a killer outfit, and... stuff."

He was nearly through the door when he heard Howard's defeated sigh and he forced himself to turn around just long enough to force out the words, "good to have you home, Howard," before he fled for the safety of his bedroom.

How had it all gone so wrong?


End file.
